He was as impudent and careless as any fourteen years old boy could be.
But even in his wildest dream he had not imagined that he would hit a flying bird with a stone he had thrown at nothing in particular. But the bird got hit; it fell on the ground like an ice ball.
For a few moments, he stood rooted to the ground. Then he walked on leaden feet and apprehensively approached the wounded bird. He tried to revive it by dipping its beak in the water. The bird died a painful death. He was shattered.
He had often dreamt that he had turned into a bird; that his wings were broken; that he was unable to fly.
As the years passed by the memories left him but not the dream. It kept haunting him.
A post for Magpie Tales